


Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, Too

by Jennicide (yenyen)



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Again, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Laurent Is That Guy, M/M, Nicase Will Always Be a Brat, Office Worker AU, Pre-Relationship, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28505709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yenyen/pseuds/Jennicide
Summary: Damen is forced to work overtime on Christmas Eve because someone messed up the accounts and now he and his frigid boss, Laurent DeVere, have to fix it before the end of the fiscal year. He is not happy about it until…
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 93
Collections: Captive Prince Secret Santa 2020





	Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, Too

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shae_la_Hyene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shae_la_Hyene/gifts).



> Merry Xmas to [Shae_la_Hyene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shae_la_Hyene/) for the Captive Prince Discord Secret Santa 2020 Event! I hope you like your present! (I'm so sorry it's late, but I hope you are able to enjoy it anyway!)

* * *

  
Damen slammed his fist down on the corner of his desk and slapped his keyboard away. It was already after eleven at night. He should have been home by now celebrating Christmas with his family and friends. His hands tightened into fists.

"What kind of monster makes somebody work overtime on Christmas Eve!?"

That was a stupid question. Damen knew the answer. He turned and glared in the direction of his supervisor's office. If his reputation was anything to go by, Laurent DeVere, the young heir to a corporation brandishing his namesake, was certainly up to the task.

Damen groaned and laid his head in his hands. He had a headache, and there were still three large and inaccurately calculated client portfolios for him to sift through before he could even think about asking to go home. This was the worst, and, as usual, he only had himself to blame.

His coworkers had been teasing him mercilessly since the company's holiday Christmas party, and despite not enjoying the jabs, Damen knew he deserved it. The only excuse he could conjure up in his defense was that he'd just gotten dumped by his girlfriend of three years, for his own brother no less, and alcohol seemed the smartest solution to his heartache.

Was it wise to get shit-faced at a company event? Definitely not. Was it wiser still to get so drunk you mistook your insanely attractive blond-haired, blue-eyed supervisor for a hot one-night hook-up in front of a potential client he'd been chatting up? Absolutely not. Did that mean Damen deserved to live with the consequence of one drunken night's bad decisions for the rest of his foreseeable career with this company? Probably.

He groaned again.

Pushing his chair away from the desk, Damen walked over to the nearest water dispenser and poured himself a cold paper cup. Despite the incident being a major embarrassment for both him and his boss, Laurent hadn't referred to it at all in the time between then and now, had actually laughed it off at the time and pardoned Damen as one of his more gutsy coworkers had dragged him away. Not a write-up nor a reprimand had been waiting for him Monday morning, and Damen had almost thought he'd gotten off scot-free until Laurent demanded he see him before clocking out tonight.

_ "Damianos," Laurent had called from across the office. Everyone and everything fell eerily silent immediately, and all of Damen's coworkers turned in the direction of their supervisor. He was standing half out of his office, tie loose around his neck. "See me before you leave," was all the instruction he gave before closing the door. _

The paper cup ended up crumpled in his hand. Following orders, Damen had gone to see Laurent just before packing up to leave. Once behind the soundproof door of his superior’s office, Damen was asked if he had any plans that evening, to which he’d replied, casually, only the usual.

In retrospect, that was probably the wrong thing to say as it could easily be misunderstood, but it was Christmas Eve, dammit! Who in their right mind wasn't doing something tonight!? Obviously, this was Laurent's way of exacting revenge where Damen couldn't kick up a fuss or threaten to retaliate with an immediate report to HR as most of their company's staff was out for the holidays. As it was now, there was no one left to corroborate this account of workplace hostility, and, Laurent knowing he had no other recourse, Damen was pissed. He pitched his mangled cup into the trash and spun around.

Damen didn't have to stand for this. He’d completed nearly all of the work asked of him tonight, which included sorting through an entire fiscal year’s worth of account portfolios for a big partner company. Whoever had messed these up should have been the person punished, not him. He stomped his way over to Lauret’s office, slowing down just before the door. It wasn’t shut all the way, and he could hear voices coming from inside. They were chatting over Laurent’s speakerphone. Curious, Damen held back and peered in through the slit of the door.

"Why aren’t you coming home?" A child's voice, a young boy’s yet unbroken, could be heard whining over the intercom. "I'm sick of Jord! Yesterday, you said we were gonna stay up late and watch movies, but now you're telling me you won’t be coming home at all! This is bullshit!"

There was a loud crash muffled in the background of the call.

"Nicaise," Laurent's voice cautioned in that cool tone he normally reserved for business transactions, "don’t destroy the house. You know I'd be there if I could. Things came up last minute, and you're much too old to be acting like such a child."

"I  **_am_** a child, or haven't you heard? Funny how you only treat me like one when it suits you." By default, the words were accusatory and harsh, but they were clearly spoken under the guise of hurt anger.

Laurent didn't rise to the heckling and continued unperturbed. "I only treat you according to your behavior. Just be patient. I'll be home as soon as everything is finished and promise to spend all tomorrow with you. I refuse to break another in such short succession."

It was quiet for a moment before the child tried again. He sounded a little more placated this time but still insistent. "Why can't you just give your work to someone else and come home now?"

"It's not that simple," Laurent explained.

"What? Are your underlings stupid or somethin'?" the child shot back. "You don't think they can do it by themselves?" 

Even if he was still just a kid, he was too sassy by far. Damen ground his teeth in annoyance. This child had no idea how hard it was working for a multimillion accountancy firm.

"No," Damen overheard Laurent say, though he purposely didn’t acknowledge either of the boy's previous questions. "That is not how a person in a professional managerial position leads, and I am a professional."

"Phfft, screw that! You're a single parent with a kid. Rules are different for folks like you!"

"I am a legal guardian, and you are a pre-teen with access to a nanny, a very well-paid nanny who cooks, cleans, and tutors you while I'm at work. Our situation is not necessarily the same as everyone else who has small unattended children at home."

"I don't need a _nanny_. I'll be fourteen soon," the boy argued.

"Yes, well, if you think so, then maybe you should act like it," Laurent sighed and turned his blond head to look up at the wall clock. It was nearly midnight. "Nicaise, I need to go. I have work to finish, and if you don't get in bed soon, Santa won't be coming tonight."

"Cut the crap," the high-pitched voice rang out from the intercom speaker again. "We both know it's you who's bringin' me that PS5 and not some fake fat jolly old man."

"That PS5 can just as easily be dropped off at a donation center on my drive home."

A shrill gasp. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Wouldn't I?" Laurent grinned at the receiver, something like amusement curving the corners of his lips. It was the most human Damen had ever seen his supervisor. Laurent DeVere was known for only two things, his extraordinary beauty and his frigid attitude. But seeing him like this, so warm and amicable with another person outside of business deals, was more than Damen could comprehend. Laurent was even more beautiful when he wasn’t purposefully trying to be caustic.

"Fine," the child's voice cut through the silence. "Stop nagging! I'm going!"

"Goodnight, Nicaise," Laurent purred, that little smile still present on his face.

"Yeah, yeah, g'night," replied Nicaise.

Before Laurent could disconnect the call, Damen found himself turned around and marching dutifully back toward his desk. That was not how he had envisioned his confrontation ending. He'd planned to rip into Laurent, threaten him for subordinate harassment, and maybe even walk out if those warnings weren't taken seriously. It wasn't Damen’s problem that the portfolios had gotten botched in the first place. He shouldn’t have been forced to suffer for someone else’s mistakes.

But seeing that Laurent was also sacrificing his evening to work on these partner accounts—had that been his _son?_ Laurent looked young, and that boy, at thirteen if he was to be believed, was nearly half of his supervisor’s age—changed something for Damen. He could no longer perceive tonight's slight as cruel punishment. Like Damen, it would appear that Laurent, too, had somewhere he'd rather be than working late into Christmas morning reviewing messed up portfolios. That this error had only come to light at such an inopportune time as now on Christmas Eve was not entirely Laurent's fault, and if his lack of a response to Nicaise’s questions was anything to go by, then he hadn’t left Damen to complete all the work alone because he felt a strong sense of duty to his employees.

Resigned to put in a few more hours of work before asking to be dismissed, Damen sat back down at his desk and resumed clicking through September’s portfolio. If he buckled down and focused hard, maybe they could both leave before two a.m.  
  


* * *

  
An hour and a half later, Damen faintly heard footsteps approaching. He stopped typing and turned to see Laurent walking toward him. His movements stopped the moment their eyes met.

“Finished?” Laurent asked. From where he sat, Damen could see that Laurent had lost the tie and opened two buttons on his shirt.

“Almost,” Damen told him in reply. He turned back to his screen and resumed typing formulas in the spreadsheet to recalculate finances. A gentle tap on his shoulder drew his attention. His fingers stilled again.

“Here,” Laurent said, handing him a small white envelope. “Finish the last column you’re working in and clock out. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Wha—but…”

Laurent turned away, effectively ending their conversation. “Take it and go. We’re nearly done, and if you get locked in here because of your idiocy, I won’t be calling maintenance to let you out until after New Year’s.”

Not bothering to argue further, Damen opened the envelope to peek at its contents and immediately dropped it when he saw the number of zeroes on the check inside.

“Laurent!”

His supervisor paused but didn’t turn back around.

“Damianos,” he replied smoothly. The tone of voice he used was positively glacial. No more first names then.

Damen swallowed hard, suddenly unsure even what he even wanted to ask.

“I… I thought you hated me,” he finally managed to get out. Watching his supervisor for any break in his demeanor, any give that his statement was still true.

“Damianos,” Laurent addressed him again without looking at him, “you’re not important enough for me to be concerned with. Now finish your work and leave.”

Sensing there was nothing further to discuss, Laurent walked himself back to his office and shut the door resolutely. His behavior just now was a direct juxtaposition of what Damen had been expecting, but why he’d been expecting anything else, he couldn’t say. Seeing Laurent mingling amiably with other high ranking executives during the Christmas Party, smiling sweetly into the speaker at his young ward, they were all mixed signals about who Laurent DeVere really was.

Was he the ice prince that everyone revered but feared in their office, or was he something more, someone more approachable than he left on under that pristine frozen exterior?

Damen swallowed hard and leaned down to pick his surprise holiday bonus off the floor. Penned in neat, crisp cursive were the words _Thank you_ in the memo section. He stared at the closed door a long time before finishing the last line in his file and leaving.

Next week was a new year and with it would come new opportunities to learn more about just who his supervisor really was. Call it a resolution or endless stupidity, but after tonight, Damen was determined to see more of the Laurent he’d unintentionally gotten a glimpse of on the phone. Anything that was worth having wasn’t easy to obtain, but he might just be willing to work for this.

He caught himself smiling the rest of the way home.


End file.
